Dean and Castiel bring the Angel Tablet to the Lair O' Letters, where Kevin pooh-poohs the idea of translating it within the next few hours. "It took me six months and a dead mom to translate a piece of the Demon Tablet," he reminds them. So, Mama Tran is dead for realsies? That's kind of a bummer. Kevin pours himself a whiskey while Dean looks on in surprise. "According to your own words this morning, this is not what I do -- it's what I did." Castiel picks him up by the front of his shirt so that they're standing nearly nose to nose. "You are a Prophet of the Lord, always and forever," Castiel growls at him. Then he thinks about it for a moment and adds, "Until the day you cease to exist, and another prophet takes your place." Mind you, it's not a threat, but a simple statement of fact, like when Castiel pointed out that his "cool coat" was actually quite warm. Dean rolls his eyes, but doesn't interrupt. Castiel gives Kevin a little shove towards the tablet. "Now, are you clear as to the task before you?" Kevin nods and tries not to cry, and then Castiel and Dean flutter away to their next destination.
As we return to the old church, the camera lingers on the wooden crucifix above the OH HOLY CRAP IS THAT EVER CREEPY! Jesus's extremities are still fixed to that thing, but all the middle is gone. It's just disembodied hands and feet on a cross. Oh crap is that creepy... and awesome. Where was I? Oh, right: the camera lingering on the crucifix over the altar. Sam counts down the seconds, and injects Crowley with another dose of Purely Purified Pureness. Crowley grabs Sam's forearm and bites a big chunk out of it. Sam yelps and pulls away. "What the hell, Crowley?" Crowley does his best to look innocent and very nearly resembles a Boston terrier who's just been caught peeing on the sofa. Sam punches him in the face. He really just cannot believe that a demon would bite him. Like, Crowley has flung him into walls and choked him, but biting him is beyond the pale! While Sam scampers off to get an emergency tetanus shot or whatever, Crowley surreptitiously spits Sammy soup into his palm. With a bit of chanting, he actives one of those red blood cellular phones that the demons sometimes seem fond of using. After a backward glance to make sure Sam was dim enough to leave him alone, he begins whispering towards his palm. "For the love of everything, whoever is hearing this -- if anyone is hearing this -- this is your King. Send help immediately." The blood says I'm almost out of minutes!